I look utterly ridiculous naked.

When you take off your pants, the last thing you want to hear is laughter. I know that when your neck and forearms are tan and your body isn't, that's called a farmer's tan. What would be a good name for the kind of tan you get where you're tan everywhere EXCEPT from your upper thighs to your waist?

This is exactly what I look like:

See how surprised I am that you just walked in on me like that?

Can you not fucking knock?

Christ.

In order to get an even tan, would I have to crawl into one of those goddamn machines and pay someone to shine light on me while wearing dumb glasses and sweating in a pair of thongs?

That's where I draw the line. At least it's possible to have some form of sex in a jacuzzi. Not so in a tanning booth.

Tell me if I'm wrong, people.

Oh, and I need my sanity confirmed:

Sometimes, when I go to bed late at night, and I'm really, really tired, my brain provides music for me as I go to sleep.

It wouldn't be so odd if the music wasn't wholly original. It's not like I'm laying there with a real song that I can't get out of my head. Instead, my brain goes ahead and composes entirely new songs. Most of the time, it's jazz. My brain seems to have an easy time putting me to sleep with original jazz tunes. Last night was different, as I was treated to no less than three original Radiohead type ballads.

If I had some way to get these songs recorded, I'd have hits on my hands, people.

So, am I nuts? Does this ever happen to anyone else? Or do I have to go off and be the only lonely member of a brand new Yahoo! club?

The third week of the screenwriting program begins today. The first draft of my screenplay is due friday. I'm halfway done with it.

The plan is just to get the thing finished, sold, and then just kill time until the Oscars.